


Fight Through It Together

by Amuly



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armor, Bottom Steve Rogers, Come as Lube, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, No Lube, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Rough Sex, Uniforms, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending for the episode "Emperor Stark": What if Tony hadn't been able to shirk Purple Man's control long enough to take him out with Steve? Purple Man has a few choice commands for Tony while he's under his control. Specifically, to rape Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Through It Together

 “Go ahead, Stark. Bend him over.”

Tony's skin broke out in a cold sweat. A vein pulsed in his forehead, teeth gritted, entire body straining against the Purple Man's control. His hands still gripped Steve tight, but he didn't move any further.

“No...” Tony gritted out. “I... won't...”

A blood vessel burst in his eye. Tony screamed, body falling forward an inch, two. Steve found the backs of his thighs crushed against the desk beneath Tony's iron grip.

“Go ahead and fight it,” Purple Man cooed. “It'll just be all the sweeter when your body finally betrays you. When you finally are forced to give in. Because you will, Stark: mark me well. You will, even if I have to burn the consciousness right out of your head to make you.”

“I...” Tony's entire body shook. The tendons in his neck were straining, protruding out as he pulled back and back and yet didn't move an inch.

Steve had to do something. He couldn't break free of Tony's grip, not now, not without an opening. Couldn't get to Purple Man, could _never_ hurt Tony. There was only one thing he could do, under the circumstances. Steve locked eyes with Tony. “It's okay, Tony. Tony: it's okay.” Licking his lips just once, Steve steeled himself. Then he nodded. “Do it.”

Tony collapsed forward a foot, pressing the length of his body against Steve's. The cold metal of the suit bled through Steve's uniform in a way it never did when they were out fighting together, side by side. Tony groaned and shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. “No... Steve...”

“Tony...” Steve wanted to lift a hand up. Put it on Tony's shoulder, reassure him with a calm voice and strong arm. But he couldn't move, not against Tony's strength in the Iron Man armor. And his voice was anything but steady, try as he might. He settled for looking into those golden eyes—purple now, but gold underneath, he knew they were gold underneath—meeting them with all the conviction he could muster but didn't necessarily feel. Steeling himself not to lick his lips again, Steve nodded, jaw jut out. “Do it, soldier.” He let his eyes flicker over to Purple Man and raised an eyebrow, trying to convey some hint of a plan. “Do it.”

Tony collapsed forward with a cry, armored hands vices around Steve's biceps. He twisted Steve around against his executive desk, scream beating at his throat but not quite making it out. The table was hard against Steve's thighs as Tony slammed him against it. Then it was cool under his cheek as Tony lifted one hand to his neck and forced him down, chest splayed out across the table. Something jabbed into his ribs. Some damned executive diorama, probably. Abstract modern art for the corporate giant. Steve grunted and shoved his ribs sideways, nudging whatever it was out from under him.

“Steve,” Tony gritted out against his ear. He was pressed along Steve's back, every inch of his armor matching up with and trapping every inch of Steve. His rocket shoes were tangled with Steve's red Captain America boots, his powerful metal thighs pressed up against the backs of Steve's. His armor-plated groin was shoved against Steve's rear, and just the feel of that sent a jolt of fear through Steve. But he gritted his teeth and looked ahead, out the window of Stark Tower.

“It's okay, Tony,” Steve told him again. His eyes were fixed on their reflection in the double-paned glass. He could see Tony's face clear against the night sky: eyes purple, teeth gritted, tendons in his neck straining. Pained, more pained than Steve felt right now. Probably more pained than he'd feel when it was over. Seeing his teammate, partner, friend—first friend in this crazy new world, best friend who guided him through it all—in so much pain just served to give Steve strength. He could do this, for Tony.

He just had to come up with some sort of plan in the meantime.

“Yes, yes. This is the one man's trust you'd never betray, I can read it in you, Stark.” Purple Man's voice was a distant concern to Steve. He shifted his cheek against Tony's desk, eyes scanning the reflection in the window so he could assess the situation. Purple Man was behind them and to their left, maybe by twenty feet. Far enough away that Tony could stop Steve if he made a break for Purple Man, but close enough to see the proceedings. Steve gritted his teeth and kept looking. He'd figure something out.

“I... won't...” Tony was still fighting it, no matter what Steve said. His entire armor shook against Steve, hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Won't...”

“Enough foreplay,” Purple Man announced. “Remove your groin-plate and do what you're already rearing to do, Stark. And just so you know, Captain: I'm not controlling that part of Mr. Stark. That's all him.”

“It's okay,” Steve told Tony again, words falling out of him in a rush. Because he knew it might be true, knew bodies could betray their masters like that. Knew it better than most, growing up as a sick kid whose body couldn't be counted on for nothing except to fail. If Tony's body was reacting, if it wanted him when every other inch of Tony was fighting with everything he had against it... “It's not your fault. Do it, Tony. I'll be fine. It's okay.”

Tony's groin-plate fell away with a sharp clang, loud enough to make Steve jump if he could move an inch. As it was, Tony's hands and thighs were keeping him fast in his place bent over the desk.

“Undo his pants, come on. You're really fighting, for me to have to relay every step.” Far from irritated, Purple Man's tone was almost delighted as he stated this observation.

As Tony lifted one hand to Steve's belt, working at it, he managed to whisper out: “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Steve I'm sorry-”

Steve forced his fists to uncurl against Tony's desk, palms lying flat. He took a deep breath as his pants fell. Suddenly the air of Tony's office seemed very cold. “It's okay. Do it, Tony. Go ahead. Do it and then we can beat this son of a gun together.”

Again, Tony jerked forward at Steve's soft words, his fight against Purple Man's directive slipping with Steve's permission. His erection bobbed against Steve's rear, causing him to jerk forward harshly. It was against everything he had just been trying to reassure Tony, but he couldn't help the reaction. Taking another breath, Steve relaxed every muscle except the ones keeping him standing. He spread his legs as far as his pants would let him go. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt too much. Even if it did, he'd heal. But it'd be nice if he didn't have to fight his way through a limp to sock Purple Man in the jaw after he was through.

“Do it,” Steve told Tony. He breathed, ready for the pain.

But to Steve’s surprise, Tony didn’t go to penetrate him right away. He hovered, chest armor pressed tight against Steve’s back, one hand and both thighs holding him firm in place… but his hips never moved closer. Steve scanned the room behind him through the reflection in the skyscraper windows, wondering if perhaps they’d been rescued, if Vision or one of the others had come to help Steve stop Purple Man and liberate Tony. But no, Purple Man was off to the side, hands rubbing together in a way that could only be interpreted as anticipatory. Steve gritted his teeth and breathed hard through his nose. What did that maniac have planned _now_?

“Go ahead, Stark,” Purple Man encouraged him ominously. Steve’s eyes flickered to try and meet Tony’s through the reflective windows, but the image was too dim. Luckily--sort of--Purple Man was happy to explain what he meant.

“He doesn’t want to hurt you,” Purple Man explained to Steve. “He’s fighting against everything not to hurt you. And he wants to take care of you. I won’t let him fulfill most the fantasies that are bouncing around that imbecilely thick skull of his. Down on his knees in front of you, taking you in with his mouth and ass-”

Steve flinched at the language, then at the visual that Purple Man’s words were painting. He tried to meet Tony’s eyes again through the reflection but Tony was looking away, staring hard at some spot on his desk alongside Steve’s left elbow. Steve could heard desperate noises in the back of his throat fighting to break free. They sounded like aborted screams… or sobs.

“Go ahead, Stark. Treat your Captain _nicely_. But, ah ah,” Tony had moved to release Steve, to presumably drop to his knees in front of him, put himself in a vulnerable position. It was a good try on Tony’s part: a way to obey Purple Man while at the same time freeing Steve and opening himself up to attack. But after that initial twitch Tony stayed fast around Steve, locked into him every conceivable way except one. “No no, not on your knees. You can’t think I’m so stupid, really. I see your every intention, Stark. No, if you really want to treat you Captain, a helping hand should do it. Would you like that, Steve? Would you like Stark to take care of you first?”

Tony’s armored hand that not moments ago had undone Steve’s belt and tugged down his pants reached forward once again. This time Steve did flinch as cold metal brushed against his skin. He couldn’t help it: cold made him jumpy, even still. Might always.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony hissed into his ear. He must have done something inside the suit--something Purple Man let him do--because after a second the metal of his hand heated just about to the temperature of skin. Mechanical fingers crept across his hips, along the flat, hard planes of his stomach, until they reached the wild thatch of blond pubic hair above Steve’s groin. Steve grumbled and shifted. He was prepared to deal with pain. It was going to take a rapid shift in thinking to deal with this.

“I’ll try and do this fast,” Tony whispered at him. Against the desk, Steve nodded. His eyes slid shut for a second, just long enough to brace himself. When Tony’s gauntlet drifted those few inches lower, Steve’s eyes snapped back open. Okay then. Okay. It was okay.

“Will you be able to rise to the challenge, Captain?” Purple Man’s damn annoying voice interrupted the quiet, almost intimate moment between the two men. Steve growled and narrowed his eyes, sparring a half-glance at Purple Man’s reflection in the windows. He was practically dancing around gloating.

“Are you?” Steve asked back. Not his wittiest line, but Iron Man’s fist was pumping him like some kind of mechanical masturbatory aid, making it hard to focus on coming up with snappy zingers.

Purple Man waved the question away with an distracted air. “Not something that interests me, Captain. Not the way that… ah, yes? Not the way it’s interesting you, I think?”

Steve gritted his teeth and looked away from Purple Man’s reflection. The sooner he got through this, the sooner Purple Man would inevitably lower his guard and he and Tony could fight back. As he felt himself hardening, Steve focused on Tony and Tony alone: in the windows before him, and solid, real, pressed up behind him.

“Don’t suppose you have any lubricant in that tin can of yours?” Steve tried for a joke.

“Sorry…. Cap…” Tony managed to grit out. He actually managed a laugh, though it came out more like a sob. “Next time. Modify…”

Steve let his hips pump forward, eyes slipping shut as he brought his world down to himself and Tony, blocking out all else. “You do that, Iron Man. Okay? You start coming up with those schematics right now. I know you like to ‘multitask.’”

“You know me…” Tony managed to huff.

“I know you,” Steve confirmed, and he made it sound like a promise. He rubbed his cheek against Tony’s desk as his hips moved a little faster. A little bit of wetness was spilling out of him, enough that it was lubricating Tony’s mechanical hand.

“Okay?”

“Just dandy,” Steve confirmed. He shifted his hips a little too hard forward, disturbing the mechanical pace Tony had set. He could feel himself approaching the end, thanks to Tony’s skilled hand. He pressed his hips back against Tony, swiveling them a little bit. “Though you mind working me a little faster? Little more pressure?”

Tony obeyed immediately, so fast that Steve wondered if Purple Man was in control of that or Tony was. He made a note of the change, of maybe Purple Man’s tenuous control of the situation. “That?” Tony asked, and his voice didn’t sound as strained. Good.

“That’s just about perfect,” Steve reassured him.

Steve spilled into Tony’s gauntleted palm a minute later, swallowing a grunt. He didn’t want to give Purple Man the satisfaction.

“That’s enough of that. On with the main event, come on, chop chop. I would say ‘we haven’t got all day’ but the truth of the matter is we have an eternity, since Stark has ensured my reign over this planet will go on infinitely.”

“He pass on his secret immortality-serum to you?” Steve grunted. Tony’s hand was moving behind him, and he was kinda hoping to get some prep. Relaxed as he was trying to keep his muscles, Steve could use a little help with stretching them out before they got to the main event. He hadn’t done this in… well. A long, long while.

Purple Man didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. In the next moment Tony tensed, grunting viciously with the strain of resisting his mental commands. Steve breathed hard and forced himself to relax. In the next moment following that, Tony lost the battle and pushed forward into Steve.

It hurt, but Tony had slicked himself, somehow. As he started moving, Steve realized he must have used his own ejaculate to rub over himself. Maybe that’s why Tony had been thinking so hard about getting Steve off first. He wanted to make it a little easier for him, a little bit less painful. Still, without any prep at all it didn’t exactly feel swell. Steve breathed through his nose and forced his fist to uncurl, pressing his palms flat on the desk beneath him. He’d get through this, and Tony’d get through this. And then together they’d get that Purple Man and make him pay.

Tony’s thrusts were unsteady, his thighs jerking against Steve’s. He must still be fighting it, or maybe his arousal was throwing off the Purple Man’s control. Steve was kinda hoping it was the latter. He took a quick look in the windows before him, tuning out the rhythmic pain behind him. It’d be over soon. Just had to make sure nothing tore, nothing got too damaged. Tony’d done his side of things--he’d gotten himself slick, in spite of the circumstances. Now it was was up to Steve, in his ability to keep his muscles relaxed as much as possible.

“Losing the fight, aren’t we, Stark?” Purple Man gloated. Behind Steve, Tony’s thrusts were becoming more even, his movements smoother. Ceding control to Purple Man… or lying in wait? “It’s too tempting, isn’t it? Hard enough to resist my powers when I make you do something against your base nature. But this: this isn’t against your nature, is it, Stark? This is what you’ve wanted all along. It’s why it’s so hard to resist: your body wants it, your mind wants it. You fight against yourself every day to resist doing exactly this-”

Steve’s cheek was getting a kinda rugburn on the desk. He lifted his head enough that the jarring motion of Tony’s thrusts didn’t rub his cheek raw. Just had to wait it out a few more minutes… just a few more minutes…

“-so you have no will left to fight _me_!”

Tony spilled into Steve with a cry, one gauntleted hand and one flesh wrapping too-tight around Steve’s hips and wrists. Steve breathed through it, taking stock of his body. Nothing torn, nothing bleeding. He could feel that much. Sore, but he probably wouldn’t even limp. Maybe a little later, but not right away. He was in fighting shape.

Of course, he wasn’t so sure about Tony. He could feel Tony shaking behind him, even through the solid armor. Wetness between his thighs as Tony pulled out, and more, dripping onto his neck as Tony whispered “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” into his ear.

Pressing back as subtly as he could, Steve whispered back: “It’s okay. I’m okay.” And then, after waiting a beat, a beat and a half, Steve shouted: “ _Now_!”

He was right. Tony moved on his own accord, under his own power. Purple Man was thrown off just long enough for Tony to get off a single repulsor blast aimed straight for his head. It struck its mark, sending Purple Man reeling backwards. He didn’t have time to regain his footing, because Steve was on top of him, fist slamming into Purple Man’s head to send him straight the rest of the way to the ground. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Steve pulled back, checking him over. Out cold, for now.

“We beat him, Iron Man!” Steve grinned and turned away from Purple Man to look to Tony.

But Tony was already gone. The cold night air blew through the hole Steve had punched in his office windows, not sight or sound of Iron Man left in the room. Steve’s jaw clenched and he turned back to the unconscious Purple Man at his feet. He’d have to deal with that later. Right now, his concern was getting Purple Man turned into the proper authorities--and making sure he _stayed_ turned in, this time.

* * *

It wasn’t until nearly a week later that Steve finally managed to track Tony down and corner him, even though they both lived in the same darned house. The only reason he managed it this time was because Tony was on the roof and without his suit of armor: he had no where to run. And if phrasing it like that in his head made Steve a little uncomfortable, well, Tony didn’t have to know.

“Hey Tin Man,” Steve called out, telegraphing his presence loudly as he made his way across the roof. From his perch looking out over one edge Tony flinched, but he didn’t try and run away. Maybe he knew there was no where to run to.

“Been looking for you,” Steve told him as he drew level.

Tony shoved his hands into his suit pants’ pockets and shrugged, not saying a word. Steve hesitated, thinking, strategizing. Best approach was probably not the tiptoe approach. After all, they’d been tiptoeing around it for a week, and it hadn’t done much good towards resolving whatever this was.

“What the Purple Man made you do-”

“Steve, please.”

“No, Tony, come on: we have to talk about this.”

Tony refused to look at Steve, those golden eyes so pained as he turned half-away. Steve forged forward.

“What he made you do, that was downright villainous. The worst of the worst we’ve faced. But for me, for what you did to me… I’m okay. I said it then and I still mean it now. The circumstances weren’t the best, but after maybe some dinner, maybe a movie, I’d be… It’d be alright. I mean, if people still do dinner and a show as parting of stepping-out, these days. You’d have to tell me.”

Steve shut his mouth, locked his jaw to keep himself from saying anything more. That was the end of his mostly pre-planned speech. If he let himself keep going longer than that he was liable to stick his foot in his mouth. So he tried and let the silence speak for him.

After a long moment, Tony cleared his throat. “I… I don’t…”

Steve’s heart thudded in his chest. Oh, shoot. He’d messed up. He figured Tony’s worry had been all about _Steve_ , but Tony could be hurting too, Tony was violated _worse_ than Steve, thanks to Purple Man’s intimate control over his body and mind. “I’m sorry,” Steve rushed out. “I’m sorry, of course if you… Purple Man _made_ you do that, just as much as he made me, and I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Steve, _Steve_.” Tony’s shoulders were shaking a little, his hands trembling until he clenched them into fists. Steve winced and took a step back. He was really gonna get it now. And he pretty much deserved it.

But then Tony turned to face him, and there was a _smile_ there. He wasn’t shaking with anger, or fear, or resentment: he was _laughing_. It was enough to have Steve smiling cautiously back.

“Tony?”

Tony grinned. “Steve. I… Well, what you said, about it just being biology: that could have been true, but it wasn’t. I’ve thought about that, wanted to do that, for a long time. The same way he convinced me to implement the Stark satellite plans that I already had up here,” Tony tapped at his temple, “what he made me do to you, that was… that was already up there, too.”

Steve grinned. “So you…”

Tony huffed, bashful for the first time since Steve had met him. “I was worried about you, I-”

“You should know me better than that: I don’t lie. Everything I said in your office that night, it’s still true.”

“You said it’d be okay,” Tony pointed out. “Not: ' _oh Tony I want your hard_ -'”

Blushing bright red, Steve strode forward and covered Tony’s mouth with one big hand. Tony’s eyes were smiling up at him as Steve huffed, shaking his head through his embarrassment.

“You’re trouble, mister: you know that?”

Tony shook off Steve’s hand to reply: “So I’ve been told, once or twice. But, just to be clear… You’re okay?”

Steve nodded. “More than. You?”

Tony grinned. “Well, shucks. _Captain America_ wants to bone me. _Me_! This is the best day of my life.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know about that…” as Tony’s face fell, Steve hurried to clarify: “I mean: I think I’d rather try _making love_  to you. If you don’t mind.”

Tony’s expression turned soft and happy, eyes shining. “Oh, well. I mean, yeah. Yeah, that’d be okay, too. I guess.”

Leaning down, Steve brought his lips to within an inch of Tony’s he waited there, eyes scanning Tony’s face for any sign of discomfort, fear, anything. But Tony’s eyes were smiling and he surged forward, closing the distance between them to capture Steve’s lips with his own. As they kissed, Steve brought his arms up around Tony and pulled him close. The security, the warmth: it was an entirely different sensation than the iron grip Tony had held him in before, under Purple Man’s control. Steve squeezed Tony’s waist and dipped him just a bit, smiling into the kiss when Tony laughed. His goatee whiskers tickled.

“You’re an old romantic, anyone ever tell you that?” Tony said, breaking the kiss.

Still holding Tony close, Steve gazed with heavy-lidded eyes into his. “It’s been pointed out I’m old-fashioned like that before.”

Tony grinned. “Pointed out? By who?”

Instead of replying Steve shook his head and pulled Tony in for another kiss. After a minute he mumbled: “You watch that smart mouth, mister.”

“Or what? You gonna get me for it?”

“That’s the plan.”

Tony trembling in his arms felt so much more right, this time around.

 


End file.
